What is Right?
by Rigabo
Summary: Kyousuke begins to see his little sister in a forbidden light.
1. A Short Prologue

**A Short Prologue**

I know what she feels. I know what she wants. I think… no, I know, that I want it too. And what is it that I want? What is it that she wants? I want her. And she wants me.

"Onii-chan…"

Damn it. She's at my door. No, she's in front of me. No, she's right on top of me. How did she move so quickly?

"Stop," I manage to say as she embraces me, sending a shiver up my spine. Her eyes are alight with a fiery passion I've never before seen – one I never should have seen.

"Hold me, onii-chan, hold me tight," she whispers, her head resting against my chest. I feel her weight on me, her golden locks brushing against my arms as they act to follow her command. No, what am I doing? What am I thinking?

"Let go of me, Kirino," I say, all the while tightening my hold on her.

She giggles.

"Let go," I repeat, gritting my teeth, trying desperately to let agitation seep into my voice.

"Your words don't match your actions, o... nii... chan!"

I feel her hands release their hold on my shirt. I hear the soft gliding of her slender, flawless skin as her hands… dart to grab onto my collar. No!

"You're mine, onii-chan."

With that, my beloved little sister takes my first kiss. Becomes my first lover. Violates the foundation of what is right and what is wrong. And to my disgust – or is it my joy, I don't know anymore – I respond, grabbing her head, crushing my lips against hers.

The world be damned, I will make her mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**If this doesn't make sense, if you're wondering why Kirino is acting like this, how it got to this – don't worry. This is a prologue, after all. All will be explained. That said, I don't know why I'm even writing this. Writing isn't something I've done in a long time. I think Kyoko's fanfiction got to me. :P**


	2. Like Sister, Like Brother

**Chapter One: Like Sister, Like Brother**

There are some things you shouldn't think about, because thinking about it will ultimately serve to make you comfortable with the topic, even if you, as an individual, do not like the subject matter. It should be avoided wherever possible, and of course, without a doubt, you should not experience the subject matter, period.

Unfortunately for me, I consider myself forcibly acquainted with the subject matter in question.

Yes, you know what I'm talking about. Those cases that are always so hard, so opaque… labels printed with a palette so vibrant, the protagonists so endearing you wish you could reach out, hug them and swear an oath to forever protect them… shit, there I go again.

It wasn't always like this. I didn't always have the smiling faces of adorable little sisters swirling in my mind wherever I was, whatever I was doing. Their childish voices, so kind, so gentle, squeaking out an affectionate "Onii-chan!" and blowing away my worries and every care, every responsibility. If I told you that my own, dare I say, equally cute little sister was directly responsible for this infatuation, would you believe me? No, we aren't – I shudder at the very thought – _that_ way.

Whether you believe it or not, it's true – one hundred percent, with not a single lie. Why would I lie about this? Do you believe me to be some kind of siscon? All right, I'll hand it to you; you've gotten me there. I, Kyousuke Kousaka, have siscon tendencies. But only in the fictional sense, I swear! I absolutely have not, lately, been imagining situations where I've secretly placed _her_ in the place of genuinely lovable little sisters. Kirino is not lovable. No sir, she is not, absolutely not.

Which is why, I am in my little sister's room, sitting on her bed, and am not having these thoughts. I didn't think about this at all, you hear?

"Well, did you want something?"

There we go; my aloof self is shining through.

"Did… did you finish it?"

Of course, it has to be about that. Lolling my eyes upward, I sigh, and say, "Yeah."

"… and?" she asks expectantly.

Damn it, why does she always insist on a verbatim recount of everything I do with my little sisters?

"I… we, we kissed, and I chose to push her down, and then we… we did it."

"Did you go from behind?"

"Yeah."

"Fool!" she exclaims, punching the air. "You're supposed to make her comfortable; if you do it from behind you make her self-conscious. You missed out on an entire scene! You needed to…"

It is unfathomable to me how she can calmly describe the optimal way to deflower one's own little sister comfortably as if it is a perfectly natural thing to talk about. Within otaku groups or on Internet forums, it is possible – but in her own room, and with her own brother? I can't help but feel my face heating up, ever so slightly.

"… facing you like I am, on her back, you can unlock the bonus scene where she'll c-"

"Stop stop stop! You'll spoil it! Moreover, what the hell are you doing?"

Occupied as I was with my thoughts of disbelief, I hadn't noticed her climbing onto her bed. So here she was, resting on her pillow with her legs spread and her arms outstretched. If I told you she's wearing a skirt today, and I can't help but stare at her pink, fluffy, teddy bear panties, what would you say, I wonder?

In that momentary pause, Kirino notices the direction of my eyes too. Time runs really fast in these situations, so it might just be me, but I can't help but feel a few extra seconds tick by, as if she's pondering, or perhaps inviting me, to stare at her crotch area for a little longer. But time is passing, and suddenly I feel her foot colliding with my face.

It hurts a lot. I can feel my nose scrunching under the force of the collision. As I tumble back, my head hits the floor with a loud thud. Blood is quickly teeming out of my nostrils. But even so, when I should be groaning, I can do nothing but think with a perverted grin that even her socks smell nice. I think I'm realizing the gravity of what I'm becoming.

"Gross! Pervert! Molester!" she screams the three words that are so characteristic of her, kicking my thighs with indifference as my blood starts to form a larger and larger pool on her lime colored rug. I wonder what she was wearing when she modeled for the money to buy this rug. I should take a look at Dad's exhaustive collection of her shoots. If she doesn't kill me here, that is.

It seems I'm in luck. Suddenly, the kicking stops, and I feel her hand on my cheek. She kneels down, her locks dangling beside me. Is that concern on her face?

"Are you ok, aniki?"

She dabbles several tissues in an effort to stem the flow of blood, pinching my nose hard.

"Ummnnnph, yerh, aime lark dose anme karakters beeding oba exsciment."

"What was that, aniki?" she says with an affectionate voice, her eyes slightly lowered, a small smile plastered on her lips, almost like a mother tending to her crying child.

Thank goodness I can't speak properly. I keep repeating the statement over and over, and she asks, each and every time, for me to repeat it, the flow of blood diminishing with each garbled response, until…

"There!" she says with satisfaction, clapping her hands together. "Now, what were you trying to say, aniki?"

I know this is bad, but I can't help myself. It's as if there's something about her that makes me want to be honest around her.

"I… was… like those…"

"Speak up, I can't hear you!"

No, no, there's no way I'm speaking up. No way I'm telling my little sister I felt aroused at the sight of her panties. Not only is it incredibly perverted for me to be feeling such feelings for any girl Kirino is my sister! My little sister, who I most certainly cannot, as dictated by every society on this planet, have sexual feelings for!

I suppose that's why my mouth is moving of its own accord.

"I was like those anime characters bleeding over excitement."

Holy shit… did I just confess?

Without warning, her fist soars in the direction of my face. I swerve to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack. I think she might've gotten a few hairs. I push myself to rise; she's a meter or two away from me, and closing. Her footsteps are slow and measured, like those of a lumbering giant. I can hear her hoarse breathing, see her shoulders rising and falling in tandem, her face red with anger and… embarrassment?

"I always knew you were a pervert, aniki. You've confirmed it now. A pervert and a disgusting siscon."

She lunges at me, her teeth bared like a rabid cat. I'm tempted to move, but I know that if I do, she'll collide with the wall behind us. My brotherly instincts kick over, my desire to protect her seizing the reins. I meet her attack, arms outstretched as she pushes both of us back.

Like the good brother I am, I cushion her against the collision. I can smell the fragrances of her shampoo as pain shoots through my backbone and, for the second time in less than an hour, I receive a concussive shot to the back of my skull. When I'm old and my bones are brittle, when each muscle movement leads to pain, I'll look back and curse you, Kirino.

"Let go of me, let go of me!" she screams while pounding my chest furiously. But for some reason, I don't let go, I hold onto her tighter, like one of those fantasies I've been having lately, until gradually she begins to tire, the time in-between each blow to my chest increasing until finally, it stops.

Saying nothing, she buries her face within my embrace, and together, we slide down onto the floor, silence replacing her screams. Together, we sit there for a time, Kirino in a fetal position, and I holding her. I don't know what to do, I know I need to get out of here, I need to clean myself up, give my poor abused skull an ice pack, and figure out how I'm going to wash the bloodstain off her rug, but this position, it's too sweet, too rare for me to break out of.

She breaks the silence first.

"Aniki… did you mean what you said?"

It comes out as barely a whisper, but in the dead silence, I hear it. I don't know what forces are guiding me along this path, but I'm done with restraining myself. I let out a grunt to affirm her question.

"Is that… yes?" she asks uncertainly. It's almost as if there's a hint of fear in her voice. Like she's afraid of my answer.

"Mmm…"

For the first time, she looks up at me, her eyes fierce with amazement.

She grips onto my shirt tighter. I can feel it; I can feel what's coming next. I know, I should stop it, I should backtrack, tell her I'm not serious, but those lips, they're way too cute. I resign myself to her; I break down my inhibitions as she stretches her body up to meet mine, with her eyes closed and her mouth extended forward. A weird sense of déjà vu sweeps over me, and I know, in the seemingly endless tide of eroge she throws at me, that this is one of those scenes that would fit perfectly in at least one of them, if there isn't a scene just like this one already. If I haven't already played through one of these scenes, if I haven't deliberately guided our actions to wind up like this. Have I? My heart is thumping fast.

Sometimes, I think my life is one bad manga or anime adaptation.

"What are you doing, Kirino? With him?"

We both swerve around in panic, breaking our embrace and jerking ourselves up as normally as possible. I must point out I am particularly panicked. If this person is who I think it is, my life is about to end, and no amount of begging for mercy will change my given path. Going from talking with my little sister about eroge to death row, all in the space of an hour, huh? You're beyond cruel, life.

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Kirino. Let alone a boyfriend like him!"

I look to see a redheaded beauty standing at the door.

I believe it's safe to say we've had a divine intervention here. My sister has not taken my first kiss, and the person standing at the door is not the blue-eyed monster made executioner whom I believed it could only possibly be.

"Ka-Ka-Ka-Ka-Kanako, w-what are y-you d-doing here?" Kirino stutters lamely, a blush creeping up her face.

"You owe me, remember?"

"Oh, right, here…" She fetches something from her table and hands it to her. All the while, Kanako is grinning at me.

"You must be quite the charmer for Kirino to have fallen for you, Manager-san."

Another silent sigh of relief – she still doesn't recognize me from the first time.

"You know, Kirino… you can keep it if you share him with me…"

Kirino's face is becoming even redder. "I-it's not what you think!"

"I'm just kidding," she responds, laughing and flipping her hands about nonchalantly. "I'll leave you two alone then…"

With a wink at me, she closes the door behind her.

I take the moment to follow her out. But as I reach for the handle, I feel a tug from behind. Turning, I see Kirino with her face cast downward. She's still blushing furiously.

"What is it?" I ask nervously. Surely she isn't planning on asking me to continue… that.

"It's nothing," she replies, shaking her head. "Mom and Dad aren't home… I'm going to make dinner. For both of us."

She strides out of the room before I can respond. And her face was still red, if not redder. This is not good, not good at all. I hope she doesn't do anything to the food…

"Wait up, I'll help you out!"

As I follow her out the door, I can't help but want to nurture the nagging feeling within me that's crying out for her to indeed do something with the food… lace it with something – anything – to put me in another questionable situation with her again. And I can't help it. Even if one part of my mind is screaming at me, screaming, "She's your little sister!" I think the time has past where I can still deny it. And yet I know, I know this isn't right, I know that I'm but a thread away from ruining both our lives.

Then there's the shock, too. It's at the very forefront of it all.

"_Kirino is receptive to a siscon of a brother!_ _She likes me after all! She lied! She's a brocon!_" is all I can think of as I exit her room.

I suppose I should wash off this blood and change into something before I head down. Why did I volunteer anyway? I should be getting away from this house as quickly as possible, running full pace over to Manami's to stay the night – no, stay forever, never return. For what I'm becoming, I should be self-imposing exile from this household. Maybe I can stay with Akagi. Find a part-time job. Pay him rent. Any place is better than here.

I step out changed with a determination to run. Even if it's only for a night, I need to get the hell out of here. Only, I find her there, at the bottom of the stairs, facing my direction. My resolve crumbles at the sight of her.

For a moment, I swear she looks rather cross. But a blink of the eye, and any indication that she is is gone.

How long has she been standing here, anyhow? Has she been here since I offered to help her…?

As she sees me approach, she inhales deeply. In the most feminine, high-pitched voice I've ever heard from her, she says:

"If… if onii-chan wants to see my panties, onii-chan can ask anytime…"

To demonstrate, she lifts the hem of her skirt up. Just enough to crack another service shot.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**I'm so sorry this has turned out so unbelievably perverted.**


	3. Just Like You

**Chapter Two: Just Like You**

For all that is holy… did my little sister just flash her panties at me? Willingly?

This is messed. This is unreal. This is absolutely fucking crazy. There are so many things wrong with what I just saw, what just happened, that there's no way I can list them all. Whoever is out there, I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!

"Onii-chan… is something wrong?"

No no no no no no no no. There's no way, just no way, she's calling me onii-chan. This isn't Kirino, this is the devil himself here, tempting me to hell. I've played too much eroge, I've had too many fantasies, I'm imagining my little sister, oh my god, I'm imagining my little sister doing perverted things for me. Oh my god.

I'm a siscon, yes, yes I'm a siscon. But not a siscon for her – no way, just no way.

My little sister, who just flashed her panties at me, approaches me, concerned. I turn around, and I run. She follows me, and she cries, "Onii-chan, wait, onii-chan!" completely oblivious to the growing look of horror on my face.

On reaching my room, I make the mistake of looking out there one last time. And yes, she's following me, she's practically so close I can't close the door in time. But I manage. And the look of hurt on her face, of rejection, sends me reeling. I want to let her in, I want to lie beside her, hug her...

What is happening to me? I don't care; I'm locking the door.

She doesn't bang like I expect her to. She doesn't throw a tantrum in the corridor, she doesn't call me onii-chan, and she definitely doesn't offer to show me her panties. No, all is silent. Is she gone?

I open the door, just a crack, half expecting her to be there, half expecting her to punch me and call me a pervert, or a molester, or just plain old gross – anything to deny what I just saw.

There's no one. She isn't there.

And I can't forget. There's no way I'll ever be able to forget this. No way I'll ever be able to look at my sister as a sister again.

Because her panties, her delicious teddy bear panties are all that I can associate her with.

I know, there's one way to clear my mind. Shaking, I dig under my bed for my savior, for my _megane_ material. I try to imagine Manami, with her bouncy breasts and all-so-wonderful glasses. I have her repeating "Kyou-chan!", "Kyou-chan!" in my mind, over and over. Yes, that's more like it! She's hugging me, and she's kissing me, and I'm playing with her glasses, teasing her…

I ask her if she's ready. If we can do it. And she says yes, she says, "I'm ready, onii-chan… my panties are getting wet…", and she plops herself down onto her back, spreading her legs, giving me a full view of her teddy bear…

Oh my god.

The magazine slips onto the floor. My eyes flutter open, and I push myself up into a sitting position. With my feet, I rip the magazine piece by piece, tearing it into chunks, and then I tear at it some more. I tear at the pieces of the magazine until the images of unclothed _megane_ women are strewn all over my room. All of them have my sister's face. All of them are flashing their teddy bear panties at me.

I scatter the pieces some more, and I make my way out of the room, descending the stairs for a second time. And you know what? I do so hoping that she's there again. Waiting for me. With the hem of her skirt lifted up. I'm horny for my sister. It's so wrong, and yet so right, so excitingly right.

Of course, she isn't there. The house is silent. The kitchen is cold and spotless. The dining table is bare. The living room is quiet, the TV off. Is she in her room? I make my way back up to the second floor, knocking once, twice, three times. No answer.

Cautiously, I push her door open. It creaks louder and more audibly than ever.

But she isn't there either.

I wish she was. Oh, how I wish she was.

No, it's not because I want to see her. Maybe just a little… no, the real reason is before me. Her laundry is in a corner. There are several pairs of panties among the pile of clothes. For the first time in my life, a girl's lingerie has never seemed so delectable. I feel myself growing hard at the very thought, at the very sight.

With baby steps, I edge my way towards her laundry basket with the sickest thought on my mind – I hope they're dirty. I reach out, eyeing a black lace panty and matching bra. I can't help but indulge… I'm so close, just a bit more…

"What are you doing?"

Shit.

"Helping you… clean up?" I ask hopefully.

She says nothing. Her face is blank, all of her emotions stowed away.

This isn't my sister. My sister wouldn't stand there idly as her brother prepares to use her underwear to relieve himself. My sister would chuck the bag of groceries she's holding at me, and she would follow that up by chucking every object within reach at me. She'd scream every demeaning word in her vocabulary, and toss me out of her room with her cell phone in hand, ready to call Mom and Dad, to weep with terrorized sobs into the microphone, bemoaning the reality that she can't live with me anymore, because her brother is a sick pervert that deserves to be locked up.

No, she isn't my sister. That makes this right. It makes it so very right.

I reach in, taking hold of the object of my greatest desire. Still, she does nothing. This is so wrong, and it's making me that much more excited.

I'm going to do it. With her watching me. I'm going to pleasure myself with my little sister watching, using my little sister's matching bra and panties. And I've never felt more excited.

"Come down for dinner when you're done, aniki."

Just like that, she turns around and leaves.

Surely she jests. There's no way she wants me to use her underwear like this, right?

I make sure to be as noisy as possible. I want her to know how much she turns me on, so that she can feel disgusted and horrified by what her brother is. So that when I come down from my high, when the reality of what I'm doing sets in and hits me like a hangover, she won't dare approach me. She'll regret telling me to enjoy myself for the rest of her life, a regret so big that it'll be a dark cloud hanging over her whenever she thinks of me.

Now, as I sit down at the dinner table, I make sure to give her the lewdest look I know. You can say I'm confident that my little sister won't come near me again. Most certainly won't be offering to flash her panties at me. The distance across the dinner table will be the closest we'll ever be. The distance as we pass each other in the corridor. As we bump into each other on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

We eat in silence. I keep looking at her, maintaining my lewd expression even as I chew. If she notices, she again says nothing. She doesn't look at me, not once. When the time comes to fetch something from my side of the table, she doesn't ask me; she walks around to my end, and fetches it by herself.

I'll test the waters.

"It's good, Kirino…"

She glares daggers at me.

I've succeeded… and I'm absolutely elated.

And yet, my heart throbs as she finishes her meal without a word, leaving me to clean up. It throbs as I wonder what she's doing about the mess I've made of her room. What she's doing about her…

No. No more of these thoughts. She'll clean them and that's all. Nothing questionable. Nothing.

As I clean our dishes, the realization of what I've done hits me like a truck. What if she wasn't even serious? What if she flashed her panties on a high, like I was? She's not like me, after all. She's still young, she's only fourteen, she's a damn middle schooler, and no doubt relishes all the attention she can get. For calling me onii-chan, for stepping over the boundary between siblings just a little, forgivable bit, I've gone and soiled her undergarments and her room with a part of me.

What have I done? If she stepped over the line, I drove a train through it.

How will I face her? How will I face my parents when they find out about this? They're going to lock me up, put me in rehab, I just know it, I just know she's on the phone right now, absolutely terrified.

I'll watch some TV to calm down. I'll watch some news, glean some insight into the world at large. I won't let it eat at me, no, I won't let the fact that I've destroyed the relationship with my sister haunt me.

But as I surf through channels, I can feel myself growing angry. Anger directed at her actions, fury directed at my own. I've messed up. _I'm_ messed up. Is she messed up as well? I can't deny that the feeling of her panties against my skin was pure euphoria. That the fact that she didn't mind, that she flashed her panties for me and called me onii-chan ticked off every perverted hormone in my body.

Calling me "aniki" was a dream come true.

But for my sister to call me "onii-chan", for it to be so genuine, for her to offer me a side of her that is utterly foreign, utterly sublime, is like an eroge coming to life. And I like it. No, I love it.

At the very least, I need to make up with her. I want to at least be on speaking terms with her. I need to make up with her now, before it's too late. Before our parents come home.

Fifteen minutes.

I knock on her door again.

As if she were waiting for me, the door opens immediately. Her face is completely red, and her eyes flit in and out of contact with mine.

"Aniki…"

Checkbox one. She's still calling me by a name. I haven't completely wrecked everything. I take advantage of her lack of eye contact to scan her room, searching for the evidence. It's laid out neatly on her bed, dried but not without obvious indications of use.

"Di-did you enjoy yourself?"

What? She's asking me if I _enjoyed_ myself? I look through her room again, hoping she hasn't hidden a voice recorder somewhere out of sight.

"It-it's not that I care or anything… it's just, y-you w-were using m-m-m-my panties…"

If you're ever in a situation where your little sister asks if you enjoyed using her panties to pleasure yourself, please, don't respond with what I'm about to respond. And I'm telling you, you will be tempted to respond the way I'm about to, because she's just too damn cute, because I just can't lie to her.

"Yeah, I did."

If she's recording this, I'm in trouble. If she's recording this, she's going to slam her door shut. She's going to barricade herself in her room until Dad or another police officer shows up to arrest her deviant of a brother. Anytime now…

"You're disgusting," she remarks, spitting in my face.

I don't flinch. Although I want to, it's exactly what I need to hear. She isn't afraid of me, I haven't had her try to shut the door on me; I can still convince her I'm reformed. My life can still return to normal.

"I'm so-"

"But you're my disgusting onii-chan," she concludes, interrupting me.

"Huh…?"

"Kirino will love onii-chan no matter how perverted he is… because… because Kirino is perverted too…"

There are flecks of white on her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**This is displacing "The Last Wall" as chapter 2, which is now chapter 3. I felt I was moving the story along too fast; it's still too fast, in my opinion. I'm really bummed that I haven't given enough attention to why Kirino calls him "onii-chan" – I don't think the current justification is believable. I might revise these chapters someday.**

**I'm well aware I'm pushing the boundaries of what is rated T and what is rated M at this point. I'm going to continue pushing these boundaries.**


	4. The Last Wall

**Chapter Three: The Last Wall**

I'm sure everyone has had a point in their lives where they've wanted to go back and change something. Take me for example; I've had multiple points. But none can compare to the desire I have now to defy our reality and alter the past. However, life works against us all.

The days following _that_ particular incident were the few days where I can honestly say I have never been happier. A few days where I had a loving little sister who did everything the little sisters in eroge do. Why then, am I here, at the lowest point of my life, you ask? How have I sunk so far?

I'll give you the long version. I'm afraid there isn't a short version.

The morning after _that_ incident, the feeling of a great weight crashing atop my person caused me to shoot upright, not unlike a spring. If there were ever a cause for alarm in my quiet life, this would certainly be one of them. Unfortunately, it got worse.

"Onii-channnnnn…" the great weight murmured.

Yes, this great weight was animate. This great weight called me by a name I was able to count on one hand the number of instances I have been called such by said great weight, when, in my fair opinion, it should have been countless. It's never too late, I suppose.

"If you don't wake up, Kirino will make you wake up," it continued.

Ignoring the fact that I was sitting upright, the great weight took hold of my left hand and guided it towards its pelvic area.

"Look… Kirino is wearing _shima_ panties for you today, onii-chan!"

At the time, all I could think was "Oh god". It wasn't the good kind of "Oh god", just so you know. No, this was the kind where I shot completely out of bed and backed up, terrified and terribly aroused, against my bedroom door.

Kirino was pouting.

With great reluctance, I said, "I… I need to get dressed. Can you leave… please?"

This was the first instance where a bit of the 'old' Kirino shone through. She glared at me, and made sure to apply the appropriate amount of force to each footstep as she left. For consistency, she slammed the door with enough force to send several of my possessions dangerously close to falling onto the floor.

In retrospect, I am thankful for having upset her. I was completely ignored at the breakfast table, as per the Kousaka household norm, meaning I had avoided the potential need to explain why she now addressed me by "Onii-chan".

Good things do not last however. Not long after turning the first corner on my usual route to school, I felt what would become a familiar weight wrap its arms around my neck. I am no strong man – heck, I would barely consider myself fit – and so, I toppled over, sprawling both of us onto the pavement below.

"Stupid aniki, you're not supposed to do that."

Ouch, I thought. I've been demoted already.

This was yet another moment of indecision. I should have left her there, ignored the fact I could see right up her uniform's skirt, and continued on my way. It was but another wall barring her from me.

I took a bulldozer and toppled it.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. Extending a hand, I helped her up, and almost jumped for joy at the way her face lit up. She wrapped herself around my arm, and together, the two of us made our way onward. The way to her school proved incredibly enlightening; Kirino was beyond popular. Such was this fact that the barely contained gossiping of her peers followed us all the way through until we separated.

Kirino Kousaka had a boyfriend.

Even then, I was conflicted – as I should be. I was not so heavy a deviant that I felt absolutely no shame for being called the boyfriend of my little sister. I felt shame beyond anything. But I allowed her to hold on to me, and I did nothing to dismiss the gossip that could be heard wherever I turned. I did not shout out "I'm her brother!" and watch the initial confusion register on their faces, did not see the spark go off as they would conclude, "They sure are close!" I only kept walking, with her wrapped around my arm.

As for Kirino? She was beaming.

When finally we separated, she pulled me down by the shirt collar, whispered a muffled "Thank you" in my ear, and pecked me on the cheek. Again, I restrained the urge to bolt as fast as I could down the street. With the uneasy feeling of dozens of eyes trained on us, I saw her off as she made her way into the middle school.

I returned home late that evening to find her dozing off on the couch, a notebook loosely flipped open on her lap. As I approached her, I made out an intensely complex flow chart, made notable by two routes highlighted with green and red lines. The red line stopped abruptly at the "From behind" box.

Even now, Kirino, even now, I thought, groaning.

"Ani… ki…?"

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

She shook her head, the biggest un-Kirino-like smile on her face.

"Welcome home, onii-chan."

For the next few days, this became our regular routine: awoken by my cute little sister every morning, treated to a sampling of my cute little sister's underwear collection, walking to school with my cute little sister, and welcomed home by my cute little sister. My life slid into place. All was well with the world.

On the fifth day, as she pulled me down to peck me on the cheek, she tried something new. With what felt like the whole world watching, she did not bend to the side, no, she kept going, her lips on a direct course for my own. Again, it was that same rapid heartbeat, that same trepidation, that same feeling of a great wall separating us being toppled.

The winds blew, and my nose received its second beating.

I stumbled backward, and much like that day, I was pounced upon, knocked to the ground. Only, this time they were serious. This time, I was on death row.

And then my nose – no, my face – received its third beating. Its fourth, fifth, sixth – I quickly lost count. Hell, I was on the verge of losing consciousness. From behind my aggressor, I could hear Kirino screaming.

"Stop! You're hurting him, stop, please!" she begged to no avail, her cries mixed among the constant sickening cracking of what felt like every bone on my face, and soon, my hands, my arms, all of my body.

I heard the cries of several bystanders joining in, echoing Kirino's cries to stop. I felt some at our side, trying their best to pry the crazed animal off of me. But she didn't budge, she straddled me, and I could feel the softness of her panties through the fabric of my pants even as I struggled to hold on for dear life.

"I told you to stay away from Kirino, you disgusting onii-san!" screamed the crazed animal. "I warned you, but you're nothing but a disgusting siscon after all! Die, hentai!"

I felt my vision blur as she kept pounding, the images of my beautiful little sister's panties between her bare thighs at the fore of my mind. The last thing I heard, and the last thing I felt, was my name being cried at the top of one girl's lungs as they forced themselves in-between my aggressor and I.

All went black, and I ascended to a higher plane. Or descended.

I wish.

I had the misfortune of waking up just now to a bright, largely white hospital room. And it hurts. It hurts everywhere.

My face is the largest, roundest, puffiest it has ever been. And it is the deepest, darkest, most frightening color it has ever been, on record to rival the pitch of my hair itself. If I could feel them, I'd say my fingers are likely broken as well. To say I have been roughed up would be understating the direness of the situation at least tenfold. Oh, and the back of my head feels pretty flat right now. I'm surprised I don't have concussion.

So what can possibly cheer me up?

Well, there's Kirino asleep on the side of my bed.

"Mmnnph, onii-chan… it tickles…" she murmurs, with a small trickle of drool to add to her unbelievable cuteness.

I want to reach out to touch her so much, bandages or no bandages, feeling or no feeling. Thirty centimeters, twenty centimeters, ten… five… four… three… two…

"Don't touch her!"

I freeze, a mere centimeter away from her lips – a mere centimeter from wiping that drool off her face. And I'm terrified. Absolutely terrified.

"Are you here to kill me?" I ask, in spite of the answer looming with her very presence.

"I want to, onii-san," she replies, staring straight at me, her blue eyes crushing. She's deadly serious.

To reinforce this, she takes out a knife and crawls onto the bed, making sure to push down painfully on my legs as she does so.

"You… you'll be locked up if you go through with this, you know."

"Anything for Kirino's sake, hentai."

There are only so many things you can do when a psychotic girl who doesn't care what happens to her if – no, when – she kills you is closing in on you. In this situation, I've exhausted the only option – begging. My life in jeopardy, I back up against the bed, sweating profusely. Soon, I'm completely straightened up against the wall. Nowhere to go, and nowhere to run. Briefly, I contemplate making a break for it out the window. Even my chances of surviving a several story drop have to be higher than this situation.

She raises the knife, ready to strike. I hope you all die happy, Manami, Akagi, Saori, Ruri, Mom, Dad… Kirino. I close my eyes, I'm ready – I'm ready to die. Just do it. Just do it.

A droplet of water hits the side of my bruised arm. It's salty. It stings. What? I open my eyes; my assailant is in tears. I seize the moment to knock the knife out of her hands. As I wince in pain, Ayase breaks down completely.

If she weren't so scary, I'd probably fall in love with her. As it is, I'm still fearful for my life. So I sit there, not daring to relax my position, as she sobs. I look at Kirino, and she's barely stirred. Just as wariness begins to settle in, as the pain numbs me more and more, I make out a faint question. But I'm in peril of my life ending here, don't forget that, and every sense is sharpened.

"Are… are you in love with Kirino, onii-san?"

The question is so sudden, far too sudden. But I know the answer. I know the answer from the bulge that develops each time I see her panties, each time she calls me "Onii-chan", each time my resolve to deny her feelings, to deny my own feelings, shatters when she greets me each morning, just like that time.

To my side, there is a vase of flowers. If need be, I'll smash it over her head.

I nod.

"Why?"

She's stopped crying now. She's looking at me with those eyes again. If I don't answer seriously, I know, I just know, she has another knife hidden away, ready to strike at me. Heck, she'll probably attack me no matter how I answer.

But she asks a good question. Why do I love her?

"I don't know…"

That's it, I'm dead, absolutely dead.

"Kirino hurt herself protecting you, onii-san."

And whose fault is that?

"If you're just playing with her, please don't. Kirino loves you. If you're satisfying her because you know this… because you're being her brother, because you don't want to make her sad, please… please just stop," she begs, on the verge of tears again.

"…"

"Just say it, onii-san. You don't love her. You won't ruin her life."

"I…"

I want to say it. Trust me, I really do. I want to tell her I'm a terrible person, that I've been playing with her feelings, that everything I do is because I'm her brother and only her brother – never her lover. I want her to hate me again, to never talk to me again, to treat me with disgust each and every morning. I want her to spit at me, to denounce me, to find someone else.

But I'm selfish. I love her, but not enough to be content with her just being happy. No, I'll only let her be happy around me, around her brother. Kirino is mine. I'll make her mine, even if it turns her entire world against her, against us.

I take one look at Kirino, I see the smile on her face and I swear, I'll make sure that smile, that smile that she has around her onii-chan will stay with her onii-chan forever. I love my little sister.

"I love her," I say, staring Ayase down. I say it with all the conviction I can muster.

"If it's a girl's pants you want to get in to, you don't need to prey on your little sister, onii-san," she begs, offering me one last chance. "I'll be yours, I'll call you onii-chan, I'll do anything you want. I'll let you touch me. I'll-"

"I love her," I repeat with finality.

Nodding, she wipes her tears away.

"Think about why, at least, onii-san…" she says as she leaves us alone.

I will think about it. What turned me into this deviant, this monster? The eroge? No. I wouldn't have gone a mile near the eroge if that were the case. It had to have been before, a long time ago. It's on the tip of my memory, an evasive trickster that slips in and out, fading completely as I close in on it. I will remember. I will.

"You're awake, onii-chan…"

For now, my dear little sister has awoken. I'll think about it later. For now, I want to love her. I want to kiss her, to consummate my love for her. Yet…

"Onii-chan!" she says in a pouty, half-mocking, half-cross voice. "You scared me, onii-chan…"

She's way ahead of me. With a serious look, her panties are already at her ankles. If there is a time for blushing, for blood to run to my face, it is now. As she kicks her panties away, the biggest bulge I've ever had forms. I collapse even faster than in Ayase's attack.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**Got a "bit" cliché. I'm glad you don't mind the perversion!**

**This chapter was originally chapter 2, but I've added an extra chapter, bumping this up one, so if you came here via story alert, please visit the previous chapter. :D**


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